


Tonight's Entertainment

by kehinki



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bed Humping, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleep Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehinki/pseuds/kehinki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sucks Tony off in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mutually dubious consent/non-consent. This is a quickie and was written for a tumblr prompt from [requiodile](http://requiodile.tumblr.com) that involved Steve sleepwalking into Tony's bed and then promptly inhaling his dick.

Tony awoke to an increasingly familiar weight atop him and although he probably had two hours of sleep, max, he couldn’t say the wake up call was unwanted, at least not when Steve was nuzzling into the crease between his thigh and crotch. 

“Hey, Cap,” he said, blearily, blindly reaching out towards him. He found Steve’s head and worked his fingers through his short hair. “Welcome back,” he continued through a yawn. “I was thinking of getting you permanently relocated here. Or maybe I'll just tie you to my bed, whatever you want.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just nipped at Tony’s skin through his boxers. And then his face fell off to the side as he began slowly humping the mattress and mouthing at Tony’s hip. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Tony told him, pushing his head back towards his now fully erect dick. Steve was always so loose and malleable when he came to him at night, always fine with being shoved this way or that, and tonight was no exception. When Tony pushed Steve’s head into his crotch, Steve just parted his lips, laving his boxers with long, luxurious strokes of his tongue. 

“That’s it,” Tony breathed, continuing to hold his head in place. “That’s perfect, Cap, just like that. Go for it. Take whatever you want.” 

Steve whined, and Tony wasn’t sure it was because of his words or the fact he’d started rutting against the bed again, grinding his hips down, no doubt rubbing his cock raw against his sweats. 

Tony nudged him again, closer to his cockhead, where his boxers were soaked through with precome, and Steve started licking at the wet fabric—little kitten licks, really, with the tip of his tongue.

Tony thrust up into Steve’s mouth, sheathing his head in that wet heat, groaning, “ _Fuck_.”

Steve immediately began suckling with a sort of single-minded purpose, like it was a rare _treat_ for him, Tony’s dick. Tony’s taste. From the light of the glittering city from outside, Tony could see Steve’s eyes slip from half-hooded to closed, his wet eyelashes fluttering as he wedged his tongue into Tony’s slit, trying to get at the taste, his hips still fucking into the mattress. 

“Christ,” he gritted out, pushing Steve's head further down, forcing him to take more. “Christ, you feel so _good_ , you—” He tried fisting his hand into Steve’s hair as he babbled, “God, just—here, let me help you out with that—”

He shoved his boxers down his thighs with one hand, letting his dick spring free, and Steve was already on him, so fucking eager. No more suckling; he swallowed Tony down whole, his nose buried in Tony’s skin, his tongue lavishing the underside of his cock, and his hands clenching against Tony’s inner thighs. That’d bruise, but rather than prying his hands off, Tony merely opened his legs wider, accommodating him.

Steve was whimpering, humping the bed at a quick, shallow pace as he tried to suck Tony’s soul straight out through his dick. Tony bucked up helplessly—couldn’t stop because it just felt so damn  _good_ —just mindlessly fucking into Steve’s mouth. Steve grunted and choked but Tony figured he must like it— _love_  it, to keep coming back night after night—especially since if he didn’t like choking on cock, he could easily pull off and give Tony one of his patented Disappointed stares. 

He thought about the other times Steve did this, the times he quietly snuck into his bed just to suck him or rut against him. Now he could swallow him down like a pro, and Tony bet that soon enough, he’d have him bouncing on his cock. He’d let him play with his ass just like he lets him play with his mouth, and just the mental image of that was enough to get him to give a particularly brutal thrust upwards, straining to get every last inch of him inside Steve somehow.

Panting, he leaned back up and saw that Steve’s mouth was so wet, even wetter now that he was drooling, saliva and precome dribbling out the corner of his mouth, coating his lips and chin with a damp sheen. His eyelashes were even wetter now, and Tony thought he might be crying—crying at how good it felt, sobbing as he chased his own pleasure as he continued to rut against Tony’s 1000 thread sheets, getting them all soaked.

He wanted to encourage him, tell him to ruin the sheets, soak them through with his slick, and then fuck through the bed, as hard and as fast as he wanted. Tell him to keep sucking like he was doing right now, like Tony was the most delicious thing he'd ever had on his tongue, like he couldn't get enough of him. He wanted Steve to grab his dick by the base and drag his fist up, wringing every last drop out of him. 

But he tried not to talk too much. Steve himself never talked; he'd wander in silently, and wander out silently, never begging or asking permission, or even just greeting him. Tony figured he must prefer it this way; quiet and secretive. Two people just enjoying each other's bodies and expecting nothing else. 

Steve hollowed out his cheeks, sucking harder, before he groaned and came. Tony could tell by the way the rhythm of his hips stuttered, how he ground his hips in as deep as he could get them. His body was taunt and his throat convulsed around Tony’s cock, and Tony whined a desperate, “Oh, oh,  _baby_ ,” as he came too, down Steve’s throat, his cock pulsing inside him. The only thing he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the faint, slick noises coming from Steve's tight mouth. 

He threw his head back against the pillows. Steve eased off but continued to lap at Tony’s oversensitive dick, licking it clean before face-planting against Tony’s navel.

Tony ran his fingers through Steve's hair, enjoying this brief moment of intimacy before Steve would heave himself up and leave, without so much as a goodbye kiss. And tomorrow he’d act like nothing happened, and Tony was fine as that, so long as Steve wanted to keep doing this.

Except now, he felt Steve shake his head, his soft hair brushing against Tony’s heated skin. Steve smacked at his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes blinking open. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, here's a quick sequel to the quick porn. :)

Tony leaned over in his bed and groped for the dimmer for the lights.

He wasn’t going to be getting any sleep any time soon. He leaned up and scratched at his beard, got up. He was restless; there was a twinge in his chest that wouldn’t subside, no matter how much he forced himself to focus on his work, or anything else for that matter.

He went over to his bar, poured himself a drink and told JARVIS to turn on the TV. He sat, bathed in its bluish glow, enjoying the false company of human voices, not really paying attention. He was thinking how much easier life was a few days ago when Steve would quietly invite himself in and grope Tony through his clothes, not saying a word and honestly not expecting anything in return, just giving Tony whatever he wanted and somehow walking away sated just from that.

He should’ve figured something like that could only happen if it were pure fantasy. Weeks of _sleepwalking_ , coming in every few days and of course Tony never refused him—how could he turn down a 2:00AM blowjob from Captain America?

He’d yelled at Steve when he'd found out and still couldn’t bring himself to feel overly remorseful about it. That fucking betrayed look on Steve’s face had gotten his hackles up; he was sitting there with his underwear around his thighs, spit still cooling on his dick and Steve had looked at him like waking up on top of him was the worst damned conceivable thing. He’d made a hurt little noise as he looked down at himself, when he saw how wet and sticky he was.

 _He’d been asleep_. Something was deeply wrong with him because he was somehow having sex with him in his fucking _sleep_.

Of course he’d been angry. “ _So you’re telling me you woke up with jizz in your pants night after night and never realized there might be something wrong with you_?”

Steve had apologized. Steve had apologized and nearly bolted out of the room and Tony hadn’t seen him since.

Or, at least, he hadn’t seen him in person. He wasn’t above spying on him, curious to see what measures he’d taken to preventing himself from—from having sex in his sleep.

Because fuck. That was what Tony had done, wasn't it? Although when people crawled into Tony’s bed, they’d never been unconscious before, this was unprecedented, he had no way of knowing.

So why the hell couldn’t he rationalize his way out of feeling like a dirty old man. Didn’t turn Steve down even once, had he? Maybe if he had, Steve would’ve woken, and this could’ve all been sorted much sooner.

“JARVIS, Cap’s room,” he said, and a holoscreen appeared before him.

Steve was asleep, clutching a pillow to his chest, the bed sheets crumpled behind him. His ankle was chained to the bedpost, and Tony knew he’d told JARVIS to put some very strict security protocols in place, preventing him from leaving his suite at all, unless, presumably, there was an Avengers emergency.

Steve’s ankle was rubbed raw where the chain dug into it, the skin appearing purplish-blue under the faint moonlight streaming in through his nearly opaque windows. The pillow he was holding had a few tears in it, and looked damp in places, like Steve had been biting into it.

He wondered what happened now. Did Steve still try to wander out of his room, but trip and fall, landing facedown on the floor and staying there until sunrise? Did he keep walking, limping his way to the door and dragging the massive bed with him until JARVIS intervened and woke him up?

Hell, did he still get up with a hard-on, desperately wanting a dick to fuck or suck? Did he arch off the bed in his sleep, unable to move, chained to the the metal frame and whining for it, _still_ , even after his humiliation? Maybe he rolled onto his back, opened his mouth sucked at air, wishing someone would just plug him up, satisfy him so he could sleep properly. Maybe Tony should buy him some toys, enough to fill all his holes at once, and then maybe then he’d finally be able to get this— _whatever_ this was—out of his system.

Fuck. There was definitely something wrong with Steve but was also something clearly wrong with _Tony_. He was half-hard at the thought of it, like a fucking teenager, getting off on fantasizing about a guy he’d been unintentionally _molesting_ for weeks. Hell, had it been just him? Or did Steve just go to whoever’s door was unlocked? Did he sidle up to Barton some nights, Bruce on others? Had he been just as eager to get _them_ into his mouth as he had been with Tony?

He pressed the flat of his hand down over his dick, trying to will it back down as the Steve on the holoscreen sniffled in his sleep and began to slowly grind his hips into the pillow he’d been clutching—the pillow that had now wormed itself in between his thighs. Steve’s mouth had dropped open and he licked at his lips, and like Tony had thought he would, he began to suck at nothing, maybe imagining something was there for him to feed on.

Tony groaned, frustrated. “JARVIS, turn it off,” he snapped; the screen disappeared and he was back to staring at the TV, the show’s laugh track beginning to grate on his already frazzled nerves.

He was sick—he knew this made him sick—but he couldn’t help missing Steve’s company, because now he was here alone in his penthouse, horny, and Steve was alone in his own suite, fucking himself on a pillow. What he’d give to just take that elevator to Steve’s place and unlock his door, climb into _his_ bed for once while he’s still chained down to it, _wake him up_ and fuck him. Fuck him while Steve was fully lucid, when Steve could be—loud, maybe, maybe he’d even beg. Maybe he’d still be completely silent but it didn’t matter because Steve’s eyes would be wide and focused on him, solely on him as Tony had his way with him.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, increasing the volume on the TV and trying to drown his thoughts out. The fact was that Steve was still mortified. After his shock had subsided, his nose had wrinkled in disgust—at himself, but probably also at Tony. And _Tony_ was mortified and _angry_. Had Steve known he had this problem? Why hadn’t Tony tried talking to him, why was he so content with lying back and letting him do whatever he wanted?

When they met again in public, Steve would likely put on his stern face, clench his jaw and not even blink at Tony’s innuendos; if Tony could still make innuendoes without getting his face punched in. He might flinch the first time Tony touched him again, glare at him and then straighten up like nothing had happened.

He was horrified, angry, hurt, and ashamed all at once and damn Tony for thinking it was actually kind of a good look for him. He could’ve kissed that hurt away. Or offered to reciprocate, suck Steve off and even up the score. 

He sighed, leaning back in the leather cushions and draining the last few drops of his drink. All in all, it was probably a very good thing he and Steve were locked away from each other.

Resisting the urge to tell JARVIS to peek into Steve’s room again, he got up to pour himself another drink.


End file.
